Two weeks later…
It’s routine now – my imprisonment.
I wake up to groceries on the table and a list of chores. I make my breakfast first and then I do them. I’m not sure why; there really is no incentive for me to do so. It’s not like Fred can punish me any more than he already has. What’s he going to do? Beat me? Rape me?
I guess I do them out of spite. He probably expects me to disobey him, so I follow his instructions to a T.
I sweep, I mop, I do the dishes, clean the counter, clean the sink. I even do his laundry. I stuff pieces of cotton into my nose when I do so I don’t inhale his scent. Even now, as much as I hate him, it still awakens something inside me that, as hard as I try, I cannot suppress.
I take a late-morning and late-afternoon walk around the property. I stay close e
